


Safe places

by ZoenOut



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Comforting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Crowley, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:54:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24577894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoenOut/pseuds/ZoenOut
Summary: Just something sweet written late at night
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 49





	Safe places

Sometimes Crowley has a bad day. Everyone has a bad day every once in a while, don't they? Except Crowley's has been piled on top of each other for over 6000 years. That means that what Crowley would describe as a bad day anyone else would describe as an unbearable day. And it sort of is. Even for Crowley.

So what should you do when you have a bad day? Or an unbearable day? Most people say to find a safe place, somewhere to either be okay or somewhere to not be okay for a while. And at least Crowley has that now. Before it was just his apartment, plants to yell at, a throne to sit on while having a breakdown, a wine fridge for numbing purposes and a bed to sleep away any particularly nasty funk. That was enough for a lot of years. But now he’s got something better. He’s got Aziraphale.

Because ever after the little Apocalypse that wasn’t all Crowley has to do is show up at Aziraphale’s door. Whether that is stumbling drunk, crying, throwing punches in extraordinary blind anger or completely silent Aziraphale will let him inside and whisper sweet nothings in his ear until he knows he won’t have to face this day alone. And that’s enough.

***

It had been a bad day from the start. Crowley was woken all too early because of the blasted sun shining in his face, when he tried to cover his face he found that his covers had mysteriously ended up on the floor and when he shoved the pillow in his face he was already furious at the world. Without the covers he soon got too cold to fall back asleep so he had no other choice than to get up. 

His shirt got tangled around his limbs when trying to get it on, Crowley tried to simultaneously rip it to threads and get it on while blessing all that was in existence (making an important exception for Aziraphale). He was ready to rip his hair out when he couldn’t find his glasses and decided to just go back to sleeping, this day had showed its true colors from the start and Crowley wasn’t gonna see another second of it. 

But as he sat down on the bed it was as if all the anger slid off him, like water off a duck. Suddenly the annoyingly itchy burn within him just wasn’t there anymore. It had left and taken all feeling with it. Crowley didn’t have anything left, like someone had hollowed him out without his consent. Left him all empty.

That feeling was all to familiar.

***

The bell on the inside of the door rang. Even if Aziraphale hadn’t stood to see that it was Crowley he would have known, he’d known the moment Crowley woke up. Aziraphale had felt the burn of anger and frustration, not as much as Crowley mind you but felt it nonetheless. So for Aziraphale it had just been a waiting game and now he was perfectly prepared.

“Oh you poor dear…”  
Crowley crossed his arms and stared into the floor. Not angrily, just with defeat. Aziraphale gave him a hug before he walked Crowley over to the sofa. There he sat down and patted next to him to get Crowley to sit down as well. Crowley did and the comforts started.

Whispers, fingers running through his hair, understanding, soft touches and just care. And then, then Aziraphale started singing. It was like a story in the form of a song. The two daughters of a king, stolen as children, return to become maids at the castle. The oldest makes a weave so beautiful that the queen says she’ll get to marry the queen’s son. The oldest answers. “It isn’t custom in our country that sister shall take her brother’s hand”. Celebration ensues. It was a simple song, sung by anyone other than Aziraphale it wouldn’t have done much. But now, sung like this, practically dripping with affection, it did Something. Silent tears began flowing down Crowley’s cheeks as he closed his eyes. He drifted into sleep while Aziraphale sang for him. 

***

As Aziraphale heard Crowley’s breathing deepen and even out he knew he’d done what he wanted to do. This was one of the oddly successful times, one of the times where Aziraphale had been prepared and one of the times it had gone about as he expected it to. It had gone… well. Actually gone well. Aziraphale smiled to himself before carrying Crowley to the bed upstairs.


End file.
